Heading for the Hills

Location: Buda Hills
October 23, 2010
Adventure #37

Surrounded by flaxen trees and the quiet pitter patter of Pollock's feet scuttling through crisp fallen leaves, I was happier and more relaxed than I had been in a long while. My little family joined a group of friends at my buddy David's house, which is in the Buda hills. From there, with just a couple minutes of walking, we had access to lovely, secluded trails.

With David's large, fluffy dog, Chica, leading the way, Pollock happily pranced through the forest without a leash - rarely leaving my heels. You can barely see him in the picture below, because his fur color (called "wild boar") camouflages him with the earth - making him the ideal hunting dog he was bred to be. However, since Mike and I aren't much for hunting, he'll have to stick with chasing down pigeons in my neighborhood. Before the snow starts falling this winter, we'll have to get back up in the hills. It was a nice reminder that in addition to Budapest's bustling urban life and culture, it manages to boast some refreshing nature.

Becoming Canine Custodians

Location: Budapest
October 20, 2010
Adventure #36

Hello world, meet Pollock. His likes include curling up in laps, chewing stuffed animals shaped as dogs (he's a bit cannibalistic), bringing stray socks into his kennel and sprinting in circles around Budapest courtyards. Dislikes include being alone - even for a second, peeing in front of strangers and loud cars. I think we were meant to be.

An eccentric link that Michael and I have always shared is our utter infatuation with dachshunds. Both of our parents have had or have miniature, long-haired varieties of wiener dog, and we always vowed to have our own one day. Since living in Europe, our sights have been set on wire-haired ones, or as Michael calls them “old-man dachshunds” due to their beards.

Well, after months of searching, we acquired our very own little, old-man dachshund. He was born on May 31, so he's currently four and a half months old. We bought him from wonderful breeders in Eastern Hungary who used to call him Chester. While a cute name, we wanted something a bit more original, so we chose Ottokar Pollock von Beahm Klein – yes, we know we are ridiculous.

First, Ottokar is a traditional Hungarian name, and is also the name of a former king of Bohemia, which is perfect because he needed something that embraced his Hungarian roots. Also, Otto was a name suggestion from our wedding “Madlibs” where we asked our wedding guests to help name our future dachshund. Now, Pollock is what we actually call him, and he is named after Michael’s favorite artist, Jackson Pollock. This name is particularly fitting, because Pollock has a long, wiry tail that resembles a paint brush, so he deserved an artistic name.

Highlights of his first week home include:

- Befriending all of our apartment complex’s burly security guards. One guard pets him every chance he gets, and also shows me pictures of his dog he has on his phone.

- Falling asleep on the dirty clothes shelf of my gigantic wooden wardrobe.

- Chasing multiple neighbor dogs around my apartment courtyard.

- Being overall awesome about using the outdoor little dog's room.

- Making my life at least twice as happy.

Surviving a 10k

Location: Budapest
October 17, 2010
Adventure #35

Today, I ran in Budapest's Women's Race, a 10k that lured thousands of fit femmes and some funny men in drag to a tree-covered starting line in City Park. Although I trained for the race, the current sore state of my legs proves that I did not put in enough mileage, so those last couple kilometers were pretty tough. Also, Mike and I got a puppy this week (more to come on that), so we had a series of restless nights and early mornings, which didn't help my energy factor either. I am just quite proud of myself for finding the motivation to do my second 10k and finishing it - which was just as much of a psychological feat as a physical one.

Here is a selection of what went on in my head today:

First kilometer: Let's do this! I'm feeling good thanks to the pre-race group aerobics and am jazzed to be part of this huge group of ladies.
Second km: Today Marisa hates two-months ago Marisa for registering for the 10k instead of the 3k. I could almost be done by now.
Third km: I'm not even half way there? Time to bust out the Ipod. Must pause Ipod to hear cute little boy who is playing the bagpipes for us.
Fourth km: Running through the shining statues of Heroes' Square is not bad at all.
Fifth km: I am closer to my apartment than I am the finishing line. Maybe I'll run home and call it a day.
Sixth km: Water station - I will use this opportunity to walk for a relieving 10 seconds.
Seventh km: The overweight man dressed as a peasant lady with a backpack WILL NOT BEAT ME. Pick up the pace.
Eighth km: I could make a fortune selling inexpensive sports bras to Hungarian women.
Ninth km: So tired. Just keep going. The faster you run this last stretch, the faster you'll be home to your new puppy.
Tenth km: Done! My friends who ran in Denver's half marathon today are way tougher than me. Note to self: never run a marathon.

Cooking Hungarian

Location: Budapest
October 3, 2010
Adventure #34

Fine, I'll admit that I did cheat a bit in the culinary department last weekend. When making a time-tested Hungarian meal of homemade dumplings and paprikás csirkét (paprika chicken), I left out a Magyar staple ingredient: lard.


My Gundel recipe book, developed and named after one of Hungary's most famous chefs, assured me that for deeply flavorful dishes, one must use lard in local concoctions. But, boy did I prove him wrong. Just like many kitchens across the country that night, I sliced up chicken, diced spicy green peppers and onions, and added them to a sizzling butter base - all resulting in an amazingly tasty dish (after I added the paprika and sour cream of course) - no lard needed. I also made homemade dumpling dough sans lard, sliced it into peanut-sized balls (it feels like Play-Doh) and dropped it into boiling water to make the satiating hard dumplings of which I am so fond. It could be dangerous knowledge that I know how to make them now, because it will be yet another way to feed my carb-obsessed body.


Michael said it was the best Hungarian food he had eaten in Hungary. Granted, he's not Mr. Objectivity when it comes to my creations, but it was a high compliment. Better yet, the meal did not hurt my stomach, which typically heavy Hungarian food does. In fact, it is such a common occurrence that I get a stomach ache after ingesting any native restaurant food or worse yet, festival food, that instead of saying I feel sick, I just say my stomach is "Hungarian." Yet, after this achievement in the kitchen, I will just have to say my ailing tummy is "lardy."

Honoring News Junkies

Location: Washington, D.C.
August 2010
Adventure #33
Of all the world-renowned museums in Washington, D.C. I planned to see during my visit last month, my first stop required no debate. I wasn't in any hurry to see timeless documents like the original constitution, get up close to Rothkos and Pollocks, or learn the history of Native Americans - although I did later pursue these interests. On my first day in our nation's capital, I immediately headed to the Newseum, an interactive institution dedicated to the news industry.

The building itself is extremely impressive, starting with the entrance that prominently features the First Amendment, which of course is America's finest amendment. Since I didn't know where to start in the 250,000-square-foot museum, I headed downstairs to see an exhibit dedicated to the news industry's coverage of major FBI cases called "G-Men and Journalists," which is where I saw the infamous cabin of Ted Kaczynski.

Besides this eerie relic (pictured), the exhibit had a model of the D.C. Sniper's' car, Patti Hearst's gun, and bios of the most famous gangsters in the 1930s.


The Newseum also featured an enormous library of remarkable newspapers, dating back to the advent of journalism. I got to see the very first women's magazine, copies of early American newspapers that inspired the Revolutionary War, and legendary inaccurate papers like the one that ran a "Dewey Defeats Truman" headline.

What made the museum so interesting was its inclusion of real mementos from intense news subjects, like this counter where a famous sit-in was staged during the Civil Rights Movement, sections of the Berlin Wall or outfits worn by Elvis Presley, who never left the newspapers' limelight.




One section of the museum that I found particularly moving was a section dedicated to journalists who lost their lives while covering the news and featured some of their personal belongings like Veronica Guerin's pen and Daniel Pearl's typewriter. Hitting extremely close to home, was this sign from Bosnia, destroyed during their war with Serbia not very long ago.

When I am reminded of the amazing contributions reporters make internationally and on a local level in shaping history, inspiring social change and serving as governmental watchdogs, it makes me never want to leave the news industry.